


little red dress

by wisewolf



Category: Cinderbrush (Web Series), Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, F/M, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking, trans!Cameron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:27:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisewolf/pseuds/wisewolf
Summary: “You look really nice,” Cam says, even though he’s avoiding looking at her. It’s almost impossible, like she’s filling all of his senses with her presence. He can taste her perfume, feel the weight of her eyes, and he can’t take his eyes off of her legs in that dress.“Thanks,” she replies softly. Her tough, queenly exterior has been stripped away, and she sounds so innocent for a moment, but a sharp note of something enters her tone when she continues, “I did it for you, you know.”“I remember that-”“So you’d notice me.” She pauses, playing with one of her earrings. “You always liked this one.”“I remember what happened when you wore that dress.”Or, the story behind Sasha’s dress.
Relationships: Cameron Solomon/Sasha Murasaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	little red dress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Transcameronsolomon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transcameronsolomon/gifts).



> so i banged (heh) this out all tonight, in between texting my friend smutty hcs for a different ship and listening to movement by hozier. it's not proofread, i just wrote it, decided it was good, and i'll probably hate myself in the morning. also this is a request from @transcameronsolomon asking for trans!cam topping sasha, so ENJOY!

They’re at a party together on a Friday night during junior year. It’s at her house, so it’s obvious that she’ll be there, and as her boyfriend, he’s expected to be there too. He used to not like parties, too conscious of his body, his face, how he was presenting, but it had been months since his surgery now, and he’s finally begun to grow into the man he’s felt like for years.

Finally comfortable enough to let himself go in front of other people, especially Sasha.

Speaking of Sasha, she’s in the part of the house that’s been designated a “dance floor,” which in reality is just the open concept living-dining room with all of the furniture pushed to the sides to make room for the sweaty bodies of dozens of inebriated teens. He can just barely make out her newly dyed silver ombre, only possible due to the high, high heels she’s wearing.

Cameron Solomon likes to think he’s a strong-willed individual. He stood up to his parents on a daily basis, demanding the respect he deserves as a human until they deigned to give it to him, and he had no trouble resisting the feminine wiles of the girls who fawned over him after he began passing. However, when he first saw Sasha that night… god, his head swims just thinking about the dress in combination with the smoky makeup and the heels and the hair.

He shakes his head and goes to the kitchen to pick up a drink. It’s less loud and stifling in the pristine, white room, and he mixes some rum and coke with little intervention from any of the people already in the room. A few girls are whispering in the corner, discreetly looking his way, but he just runs a hand through his hair and sips his drink. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s not his problem until it becomes his problem. That’s always been a philosophy of his.

Leaving the kitchen causes an immediate uptick in his body temperature, and he blows out a breath before taking off his letterman and putting it in a more secluded coat closet in the house. If the night goes how his body wants it to-- especially after seeing Sasha’s dress-- he won’t be needing it. Besides, now that he’s built up his muscles (a big thanks going to his hormone therapy, but also to his gym and sport devotions) and gotten his surgery, he feels confident and hot in only the tight, white t-shirt he’d put on.

(Sasha had always been complimentary of his body, even before, when he preferred hiding it.)

He sets out, then, to find her. It’s about time he got on the dance floor, now pleasantly loosened by the drink. He wonders briefly if Jamie is fluttering about the party, peddling candy with their usual brazen attitude, but that thought disappears from his mind as he dives into the thick of the dancing with a single-minded focus on finding his girlfriend.

It’s easiest to find Jesse or Cori, really. They’re the tallest of Sasha’s Hive, and he spots the statuesque model swinging her hips and raising her arms hypnotically first. Directly ahead of her are Jesse and Sasha, the former scanning the crowd-- probably for someone to warm his five thousand thread count sheets for the night-- while the latter mindlessly swayed to the bass beating in their chests.

Cam ducks his head and slinks through the crowd, moving so he’s behind Sasha, dropping his drink off on the mantle on the way. He reaches out to rest his hands on her hips and pull her into his body, lips brushing the shell of her ear as he greets her with a gruff, “hey.”

Sasha stiffens and relaxes in the space of a second, reaching back to hold his head and keep him hooked over her shoulder as they begin a coordinated dance. She grinds back against him, a dangerous smirk pulling at her red lips. He’d once made a joke about the color, calling it “the blood of your enemies.” She’d thought it was really funny.

“I love this dress,” Cam murmurs, directly into her ear. The shiver it elicits makes him grin, and he peppers kisses across her jaw and neck. He sweeps her hair out of the way and then lets an arm loop around her waist, one calloused hand splayed over her stomach, the other keeping its position on the flare of her hip.

“I bought it just for you,” she replies. One of her hands falls to the one over her stomach, and she laces their fingers together and squeezes.

Her words cause heat to bloom in his gut, spreading out to his further extremities as he inhales the scent of her perfume: vanilla and lavender. He scrapes his stubble against her neck and clicks his tongue, head rushing with blood and lust. “You look good.” His blue eyes lift and she turns her head just in time to catch his pupils swallowing his irises. “Like, _really good,_ Sash.”

To punctuate his statement, he roughly rolls his hips into her ass, delighting in the surprised gasp that it pulls from between her lips. She looks at him with half-lidded eyes, turning in his grip and kissing him harshly. Their teeth don’t knock-- they’ve long since learned how to avoid that-- and Sasha slips her tongue in within a second of the kiss. It’s dirty and wet and he’s _definitely_ got her lipstick on him now, but he can’t bring himself to care about that as he grabs a handful of her ass and crowds her body up against his own.

“You’re really making me want to leave my own party early,” Sasha says, her nails carving into the nape of his neck and his back with just enough pain for it to be a shock to his system. He hisses into the next kiss before reaffirming his position and biting her lower lip, tasting the waxiness of her lipstick. “Oh, god, you’re too good at this.”

“Steep learning curve.” He draws back then, gasping in his breaths, lips kiss bruised and stained red. His immaculately messy hair has crossed the threshold into properly disheveled and it’s doing something to Sasha’s insides, making them quiver and flutter the longer she stares as she catches her breath. He uses the back of his hand to wipe at the lipstick, but it just smears red across his cheek. “What’s this party for anyway?”

“Nothing important.” She turns to Cori, who has been off to the side with a girl, both of them looking close to what Sasha and Cam had just been doing, and gives her a heads up that she’s going upstairs and that she’s in charge of keeping the peace. Cori just rolls her eyes with a nod before going back to her girl, leaving Sasha to drag Cam back to the main staircase.

Cam is apparently impatient, because he backs Sasha up against the nearest wall and holds her cheeks as he kisses her hard. She responds in kind, resisting the urge to jump into his arms, even if she knows he could carry her with ease. Making out in front of everyone who is anyone is one thing, and so is bumping-and-grinding amidst their peers, but what she wants to do is a step too far.

“Cam,” she chokes out, jerking herself away from him so she can speak, though she is hardly able to be heard over the music. He probably wouldn’t have heard her if not for the fact that he was millimeters from her lips. “Bedroom, now.”

The look in his eyes tells her he doesn’t care about the crowd, but she shoves at his shoulder to get him to back up so she can strut up the stairs with all the grace of a queen. He follows after her, keeping close as the sounds of the party begin to get quieter as they move from the first floor to the second, and then the third where he knows her bedroom is. The bass reverberates through the floor and into their feet as she unlocks her door and walks in, hips swinging from side to side in a way that should be illegal.

He shuts the door behind them, locking it as an afterthought in his tipsy state. He hears her kick off her heels. His eyes devour her as she bends at the waist to check her appearance in the vanity, getting one look at her smeared lipstick and smirking at the damage they’ve done. She daintily grabs a makeup wipe and cleans it up, then turns to him. “As much as I love seeing my marks on you-” she begins to swipe at the red- “I don’t want you getting stained.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he replies, holding her by the waist as she rubs the wipe over his face. His tongue flicks out to wet his lips after she passes the wipe over them, and it reminds him of just how much he wants to keep kissing her.

One of his hands comes up to cup her jaw, thumb pressing into the corner of her lips. His jaw drops when she turns her head, taking his thumb between her lips and licking around it, never breaking eye contact. When she lets the digit go with a slight _pop_ , he surges forward and starts pushing her to the bed. In the process, somehow not falling back on her heels despite Cam’s aggression, Sasha grabs the hem of his top and pulls it up and off so she can admire the sculpted planes of his torso, and the still relatively fresh scars on his pectorals.

“Come on, pretty boy,” Sasha prompts when he seems to stall, bringing her hands around to the back of his neck to rub at the hair there. “You with me?”

“Yeah,” he replies lowly, his movements slower now as he backs her into the bed. “Just not used to it, still, I guess.” He reaches behind her to begin unzipping her dress, lips parting with a harsh exhalation when it drops around her feet and reveals that she’s only wearing a pair of skimpy black panties.

“Do you not want me to touch there?” Sasha asks. She sits down on the bed, looking up at him with sincerity in her brown eyes. Her hands remain folded in her lap as she waits for his direction. They’d been dating long enough to talk about stuff like this, and it changed from time to time, where she was allowed to touch and where she wasn’t.

Cam shakes his head, gesturing for her to scoot up the bed. “I don’t care. It just still startles me, even now.” He shrugs and climbs onto the bed, prowling until he’s holding a plank position over her. “Tonight I’m going to take care of you, though, so let’s not worry about me.” Holding himself up with one hand is a trial, but he does it just so he can keep an eye on Sasha as he drags his freed hand down her neck- collarbone- to her uncovered breast.

“Far be it from me to stop you from fucking me,” Sasha chuckles, one hand snaking its way into his hair to tug at it, the other grabbing the wrist of his planted hand for stability. Her laughter cuts off into a gasp when he cups her breast, thumb swiping over her nipple before he pinches it into a peak. “God, Cam,” she whines, thighs pressing together for any minute amount of relief she can bring herself.

“Ah, none of that,” he scolds, hand disappearing from her breast so he can tap her thigh with two fingers. “I want these open.”

She whines again, but she does part her legs, a breath escaping her harshly when he settles into the space afforded. Her eyelids flutter as he drops his body weight more significantly onto her, beginning to kiss over her jaw and neck, stubble grazing the sensitive skin in a way that makes her nerves hum. His hand resumes toying with her breast, a mix of slowly circling his middle finger around her nipple and flicking the peak. He kisses down her sternum, then mouths over her neglected breast, wetting it with his tongue before blowing on it.

“You’re so fucking hot, Sash,” Cam rasps. He scoots back, still knelt between her parted legs, and holds his index and middle finger up to her lips in an obvious, though implicit, gesture. She takes them between her lips, sucking and licking until they’re wetted to his satisfaction. Then, he hooks a finger in her panties and draws them down-- made a little awkward by his positioning, but they get through it. “How wet are you,” he asks, tracing his wet fingers down her abdomen, dipping into her quivering belly button, before sliding down to brush her clit with such a lightness that she wants to scream.

“Cam, please,” she begs, her hands clutching the sheets of her unmade bed. Her eyes are black with desire and she wiggles her hips to entice him towards where she wants him, biting her lower lip. “Please, I need you.”

“Only because you asked so nicely.”

Sasha wants to cry out when he slides his fingers in, her entrance adjusting around him before squeezing as she groans. Her head lolls back and to the side as he begins the insanity-inducing push and pull, curling on the downstroke so he hits just the right spot inside of her to make her toes curl. He watches her every move as he twists his wrist experimentally, grinning when she releases her bottom lip to keen.

Sasha Murasaki is almost as intoxicating as the alcohol downstairs.

It feels like hours pass, Cam eventually straddling her thigh and putting his own body weight into the thrusts and curls of his fingers inside of her. A droplet of sweat drips down her temple to soak into her hair as she feels the tension building in her gut, eyes screwing shut as she tightens on Cam’s fingers. His thumb swipes over her clit, and each move seems to exponentially increase the tightness in her abdomen.

“You’re so pretty, Sash,” Cam praises, stilling his body’s movements so he can use his other hand to rub circles against her clit. He knows the signs, by now, that she’s close. He watches her intently, taking in the way her lips hardly have time to close around the constant stream of moans and whines and little “oh-”s, the way her hips chase his fingers, the way she can’t find a place to put her hands so she flexes her fingers helplessly against the sheets. “I wish you could see yourself. You’re so pretty when you come. Come on, babe.”

Her eyes open just enough so she can see him as he says his next words.

_“Come for me.”_

The tension snaps and she chokes on a scream, babbling incoherently as her orgasm crashes into her like a tidal wave. Her entrance tightens and relaxes spastically, her hips jerking and thighs quivering with the raw euphoria that Cam is wringing out of her, never ceasing his hard, tight circles, or his curling. She loves his tenacity, especially in times like these, and her eyes roll back in her head as soon as she feels the second orgasm cresting on the coattails of the first.

“Cam, fuck, Cam!” she gets out brokenly. Her hair is sticking to her face with sweat, but he still is staring at her like something to be worshipped, his own mouth open as he breathes heavily. She comes again with his reverence burned into her eyelids, and at this point, her pelvis feels numbed out, and all of her limbs feel like they’re made of lead.

“You feel good, babe?” Cam checks in, snapping in her field of vision to get her unfocused eyes on her. He feels sobered up now, but he knows from experience that Sasha will not be moving from this bed. “Need help getting under the covers?”

Sasha shivers now that the warmth has escaped her body, replaced by the chill of cooling sweat against her skin. “Can you grab me a shirt and shorts first, Cam?”

“Anything.” He scoots away and goes to her expansive closet, sifting through her drawers until he finds one of what he thinks are probably pajamas. He’s never seen her wear any of this at school, so it’s a good guess, he thinks. A simple, baggy t-shirt and some skimpy little shorts that he briefly wonders about if they can really be classified as shorts or just underwear. “Do you need help getting them on?”

She shakes her head and stands from the bed, wobbling slightly to the point that he grabs her elbows to steady her. Her expression is gracious as she takes the pajamas and puts them on, hands still trembling a little. “You’re really good with your hands, Cam.”

“I know,” he says cheekily, pulling back the sheets on the opposite side of the bed from where they had just been laying so she can climb in. He stands a little awkwardly for a moment, unsure whether or not to return to the party, or to-

“Cam.”

“Yes’m?”

“Take your pants off and get in bed. Cori and Jesse can handle getting everyone out,” she says, patting the spot on the bed behind her.

“Don’t need to tell me twice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Validate me in the comments please, ya nasties ;)


End file.
